A Minor Flaw!

What was he in a hurry for? He wasn't in a hurry at all!

If anyone was in a hurry, it was Horus!

Could Horus have done something to disappoint their father?

The more Magnus thought about it, the more restless he became. The flames of gossip roared in his heart.

Suddenly,

he remembered that his sons sometimes chatted with Astartes from other Legions during their downtime.

Maybe he could get the answers he wanted from them!

With that thought, Magnus immediately headed for a nearby monastery. Before he even opened the door, he heard something that made him uncomfortable.

"Do you think Captain Ahriman and the others will ever come back? Could it be true, like the Word Bearers say, that we'll all be purged once the Great Crusade is over?"

"I doubt it. That's not a funny joke."

"I heard from the Word Bearers that the Emperor has replaced the War Council with the Council of Terra, and there isn't a single Primarch on it!"

"I also heard from some Word Bearers brothers that gods really do exist!"

The first few comments had been complaints, but that last one struck a nerve with Magnus. He immediately pushed open the door and barked, "Who said that? That's heresy! You must believe in the 'Imperial Truth'!"

The group, who had been laughing and joking on the floor, immediately stood up.

"Reporting to the Primarch, a warrior from the Word Bearers said it!"

Seeing them answer honestly, Magnus breathed a sigh of relief and reassured them.

"Don't worry. They'll be fine."

"By the way, do you know what's going on with the Sons of Horus?"

The group looked a little confused about why their Primarch had changed the subject so abruptly, but they still answered honestly.

"We heard they might be going to a planet called Davin soon."

Magnus: "..."

He'd come to hear gossip about Horus, and this was all the information they had? What use was that?

"How is that just a bit of information? This is incredibly important!" Francis exclaimed, slapping Leman Russ on the shoulder.

Leman Russ: "???"

If history was right, the Great Crusade's major turning point was happening right now.

He needed to hurry up!

The moment Francis stepped out of the cell, he inhaled a massive amount of information along with the air.

"Cough, cough! Hold on, Sixth Brother, how much have you been drinking and how much meat have you been eating?"

The air reeked of alcohol, mixed with a powerful smell of ox. Francis wasn't used to it at first.

"Hmph, it was only three barrels of ale and two Howl-Oxen." Leman Russ sounded rather proud as he said this.

"Right, right, Sixth Brother's amazing. I heard that when Father first found you, he competed with you at eating, drinking, and fighting. You—mmph, mmph—"

Before Francis could finish, Leman Russ clamped a hand over his mouth, his face dark with embarrassment. "Francis, why don't you just stab me? I'm sorry. Please, stop talking."

Francis raised both hands to show he wouldn't resist, and only then did Leman Russ let go.

"Then, Sixth Brother, remember that you owe me a favor."

Leman Russ eyed him warily. "Fine, but it can't go against Father's will!"

"No problem! He's our father too."

It took the two of them twice as long as usual to get out of the dungeon.

If Leman Russ hadn't been holding him back, Francis would definitely have opened one of the doors storing forbidden objects.

At last,

Francis left the dark, damp dungeon and reached the interior of the palace.

The inner walls were lavishly decorated, engraved with prayers of the Ecclesiarchy and images from the history of the Imperium.

The palace also carried the scents of protective incense and surgical chemicals. Blended with the other smells in the Inquisition fortress, they created a solemn, mysterious atmosphere.

But that atmosphere was soon shattered.

"Francis!!! Look what you've done!"

A Custodian in full Adamantium Power Armour roared in anguish and immediately ran over, ignoring all decorum.

Unlike the other Custodians they'd seen, this one had a mass of green hair visible beneath his helmet.

Only when he drew near did the two recognize him. It was Constantin.

"Francis! Tell me, what happened to my hair?"

Constantin removed his helmet and pointed to his flowing green hair. It was not only thick and abundant, but had grown all the way down to his waist.

"Cough, cough. Doesn't it look great? You won't even need to dye it. Green means vitality. What's not to like?" Francis said, his eyes darting away as he avoided looking at Constantin.

"Does it? Take another look!" Constantin was close to tears. He'd never suffered so much, not even when facing countless enemies.

He walked a few steps into the sunlight.

In an instant,

his hair seemed to come alive and grew at an incredible speed. In the blink of an eye, it had reached the ground.

And that wasn't all. Constantin's body kept making little popping sounds, accompanied by a strange odor.

Since this was a fairly important part of the Imperial Palace, plenty of warriors were patrolling back and forth.

At last, his eyes red, Constantin went up to Francis and gritted his teeth. "What am I supposed to do? Farting in front of the revered Emperor is an outrageous act of blasphemy! You have to fix this!"

Leman Russ stepped in front of Francis, though he said nothing.

"Uh, let me take a look. This doesn't seem right."

Francis walked around Leman Russ, plucked a hair from Constantin's head, and put it in his mouth.

A stream of genetic information came from the hair.

"Vesken genetics: 35%; Ork genetics: 47%"

"Enjoys sunlight"

"Enhanced regeneration; photosynthesis"

"Living hair; short lifespan; stops growing when it dies."

Francis raised an eyebrow. It was only a tiny flaw!

"Don't worry. It's living hair. Once it dies after a while, its color will return to normal."

"And it won't grow any longer, either. If that doesn't work, you can always shave your head."

Only then did Constantin feel reassured. Seeing them head left, he quickly called out, "Go right. You'll see the assembled Soul Drinkers there."

"...So, Sixth Brother, why were you walking left with such confidence?" Francis stared at Leman Russ ahead of him, beginning to doubt everything.

"Uh, weren't we going to get something to eat?"

Francis: "..."

The two turned around and immediately headed right.

Halfway there, Francis suddenly remembered that he'd prepared something for his Sixth Brother.

He took a bottle of clear, emerald-green liquid from his box and tossed it to Leman Russ.

"What's this?"

"I brewed it while waiting for the psychic barrier to come down. Want to try some?"

Faced with Francis's innocent, guileless expression, Leman Russ suspiciously unscrewed the cap. A strange, intoxicating aroma drifted out.

He cautiously took a small sip. It was cool and sweet at first, followed by layer upon layer of rich, lingering flavor, as though it could reach the depths of his soul.

The liquor slowly blossomed across his palate. It had the elegance of wine, yet carried a distinctive, meaty sweetness, with a hint of wildness and mystery that made him close his eyes.

"Now that's good liquor!"

Leman Russ's eyes lit up. It was far better than ale!

By comparison, the ale he'd drunk before was horse piss!

Pfft—

Before Leman Russ could heap on more praise, an incredibly loud, drawn-out fart left him stunned.

Leman Russ turned to look at Francis, only to find that he'd already scampered away. Francis's laughter echoed down the corridor. "Heh heh! Fun, right?"

"You little brat! Don't run! I'll teach you a lesson!" Leman Russ roared, taking off after Francis.

The palace corridor stretched on for a great distance, lined with countless enormous windows. The two ran one after the other, their figures flashing past the windows as they smiled with a joy they hadn't felt in a long time.

On the planet Davin,

amid the ruins, surrounded by shattered walls and beneath a sky thick with smoke,

Eugene Tamba held a dagger blessed by ■■■■. An eerie light that did not belong to this world flowed along its blade, as if it could devour all light.

He was agile, like a leopard springing from the darkness, as he lunged straight for Horus.

Horus, the Imperium's Warmaster, showed no sign of panic in the face of the sudden attack.

He wore heavy Power Armour and wielded a massive energy sword, his figure standing tall and straight.

As Eugene Tamba's dagger sliced through the air, carrying a trace of corruption as it thrust toward his chest...